


Wild Like Fire

by Slytherin_Princess_Nysa, the_bisexual_disaster



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- How to Train Your Dragon, Angst, Crack, Dragons, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Gendrya - Freeform, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, POV Arya Stark, POV Gendry Waters, Robberys, Romance, Sassy Arya Stark, Slow Burn, Smut, gendrya appreciation week 2020, past Ned Stark/Catelyn Stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa/pseuds/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_bisexual_disaster/pseuds/the_bisexual_disaster
Summary: Gendry has lived his entire life in the shadows of his father's legendary war conquests. No matter how hard he tries, he never seems to be good enough for his father. When the Starks moved to Storm's End, Gendry befriends Robb and Jon, but their younger sister is another story.After suffering the losses of her mother and younger brothers and moving away from everything she knew, to a village plagued with dragons nonetheless, she doesn't want to get close to anyone only to lose them. But the people of Storm's End are slowly burrowing their way into her heart and making a home there. Especially the awkward blacksmith.
Relationships: Arianne Martell & Arya Stark, Arianne Martell/Margaery Tyrell, Arya Stark & Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark & Jon Snow, Arya Stark & Robb Stark, Arya Stark & Theon Greyjoy, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Gendry Waters & Arianne Martell, Gendry Waters & Daenerys Targaryen, Gendry Waters & Jon Snow, Gendry Waters & Robb Stark, Gendry Waters & Theon Greyjoy, Jon Snow/Satin Flowers, Robb Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 68
Kudos: 47





	Wild Like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of Gendrya Appreciation Week  
> Prompt : AU

**~Gendry Baratheon~**

Hot flares flew from the fire, licking at his skin as he held the twisted piece of steel over the open flame. Gendry took the hot steel and moved it to the anvil, he began to beat it into a shape resembling a sword. He moved to reheat the sword for quenching but stopped when he saw there were others in the shop that needed his help.

The Stark boys, Robb and Jon, were well known in the village for being talented dragon fighters and overall causing mischief with their father’s ward, Theon. Robb and Jon were younger than Theon and closer to Gendry’s age. They’d moved to Storm’s End three years ago with their father and younger sister under unknown circumstances.

Since then, Gendry had seen plenty of the Stark brothers but very little of Arya Stark.

Sometimes, he caught glimpses of brown hair as she walked by or saw her sparring with her brothers as he went home from the forge for the day, but he never once engaged with her. She always seemed angry, sometimes even more so than him, and the skills she had with a blade was undeniable. The entire village knew not to get on the wrong side of her sword. Out of all the people in the village he called home, she was the only person he ever felt inclined to interact with. He’d tried to call morning greetings to her as she passed, but had received nothing but a glare given by hard grey eyes in return.

The closest he got to interacting with her was when she was with her brothers. She seldom came into the forge with them and didn’t stay long whenever she did join them. At this moment in time, she didn’t join them inside as they brought their blades to be sharpened. If he watched the entrance closely, he could see the edge of a figure leaning against the frame and the occasional glimpse of a knife as they spun it around their fingers and passed it from hand to hand. He knew it was Arya. The way she flipped the knife around and tossed it from one hand to another was remarkable and unlike anything he’d seen. 

“Check this one out,” Theon exclaimed, grabbing one of the swords Gendry’s master Tobho made and swinging it around in his hand.

“Put that down,” Gendry demanded, trying to reach for the sword before remembering the amount of time Tobho put into sharpening the blade alone.

“Why would I listen to you?” Theon asked. He swung the sword, spinning his body around and directing the steel into a wood post. When he released the sword, it stayed embedded, and wouldn’t move despite his, Robb’s, and Jon’s attempts to pull it out. 

“You think you’ll take a moment to think about what you’re doing next time, Greyjoy?” Jon quipped. “Preferably _before_ you accidentally make a sword a part of the shop's interior design or take someone’s head off?”

Theon snorted. “Maybe if you spent less time worrying about your hair and more time worrying about your own sword, then _you_ wouldn’t accidentally get it stuck somewhere it doesn’t belong.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Theon,” Robb remarked.

“It doesn’t have to make sense!” Theon sniped. “All that matters is that I got back at Jon for embarrassing me.”

“You’re so sensitive,” Jon stated. “There’s no one here except for us and Gendry, and he’s barely even listening to us as is.”

He wasn’t wrong. Gendry was only partly paying attention to the conversation while he sharpened Robb’s sword.

Theon Greyjoy was the village troublemaker, despite being twenty and one. He was notorious for sleeping around and starting fights with whoever he could. He was the most self-obsessed, ignorant, impulsive, and arrogant person Gendry had ever met. 

That wasn’t saying much since Gendry had never left the village. He’d been born in Storm’s End and he would likely die there too.

Now he felt like doing something about Theon. His presence and unpredictability alone made him a distraction from Gendry’s work and thoughts. If it were solely up to him, he would grab the older man by the collar and throw him out the door. Maybe he’d even punch Theon in the face until he finally stopped talking.

Gendry had lost his, admittedly, short temper on clients before. Being the son of the chief, there wasn’t much Tobho could do to reprimand him. However, Tobho was very close with Gendry’s father and alerted him every time Gendry stepped out of line and that was worse.

Chief Robert Baratheon was a terrifying man.

He was an angry and violent drunk on his good days, thankfully those were more frequent than his worst. He was a legend in the Archipelago given his victories in battle against humans and dragons alike. The man _hated_ dragons so much he wouldn’t stop hunting them since one attacked Gendry’s mother just outside Storm’s End and killed her. He had hunted dragons ever since, until the beasts were little more than a myth; a warning to those who would dare wrong Robert Baratheon.

“Gendry!” Robb snapped and pulled Gendry back into reality, he took the sword off the whetstone. “You almost done with my sword?”

The blade was now razor sharp, especially compared to when Robb had handed it to him. The damned thing couldn’t have cut through soft cheese before Gendry got his hands on it. Now, after Gendry had finished sharpening it, the sword could easily slice through his fingers if he wasn’t careful handling it.

He resheathed and gave Robb his sword back, reaching for Jon’s when Arya stormed into the shop, knife in hand.

“What is taking you so long?” she demanded, not of her brothers, but him. It was the most she had said to him since her family arrived in Storm’s End.

“Take a deep breath, Arya,” Jon said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder. “He was just trying to ignore Theon and work at the same time. I’m sure you can empathize with that.”

“Well tell him to hurry up so he doesn’t have to listen to Theon blather on about his damned sword and we can leave!” she huffed, whirling around and returning to her position against the doorframe.

“Is she alright?” Gendry asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Robb questioned, almost menacingly, glaring at Gendry. Jon and Theon followed suit, effectively surrounding Gendry. 

“I was just asking,” he replied, not breaking eye contact with Robb. “There’s no need to attack me for asking a question.”

He turned around and finished sharpening Jon’s sword quickly, doing his best to ignore how tense the room had gotten. He wondered if Arya noticed it all the way from outside. Gendry resheathed the sword and held it out for Jon to take, but Robb beat him to it, snatching the sword out of Gendry’s hand without a word.

“Don’t ask questions about my family,” Jon growled, his voice approaching something that resembled a wolf’s snarl, “And stay the hell away from my sister.”

Gendry nodded, watching the three of them disappear through the door. He scratched at the back of his neck, he hadn’t overstepped, had he? It was a simple question but he had realized very early on that something had happened to Arya, something that made her so disconnected from everyone in the village and made her brothers so overprotective.

He shook his head and turned back to his anvil and the twisted piece of steel.

* * *

**~Arya Stark~**

She could hear her brothers inside the forge, joking and laughing with Theon and the blacksmith. Arya rolled her eyes at the sound of Theon’s voice as he went on and on about some pretty tavern girl who had lifted her skirt up for him the night before. She heard the turning of the whetstone and the muffled voices.

Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she pressed her back into the wooden door frame to the shop. She didn’t like being inside the forge, it was too hot and stuffy for her. Not to mention Gendry practically lived in there.

Arya didn’t like the Chief’s son, he had a superior attitude that rubbed her the wrong way every time he was around. He never talked to anyone unless they were important enough for him to notice and he breezed through training with his size and strength, if he came at all. He only showed up when he felt like it or his father was coming to watch their progress.

The only time Arya talked to him was when she needed her knives or sword sharpened, not that he tried to make conversation with her anytime else. Even then it was only a few sentences, telling him to be careful with her things and paying him for his work.

When she and her family had first moved to Storm’s End, Arya had tried to befriend him at her father's behest to be herself. She had sat with him at meals for over a moon's turn, trying to get him to talk to her and all she got were grunts and staring at the top of his head because he wouldn’t even look at her. She wasn’t proud of it but she had given up, insteading moving to sit between her older brothers.

“Arya!” she snapped her head up at the voice, shaking it to clear her mind and smiling at the sight of her friend. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be at the arena already.”

“We were heading there but then my idiot brothers realized that swords don’t stay sharp forever and need constant care.” Arya rolled her eyes goodnaturedly towards the forge, pulling Arianne into a quick hug.

When she’d first met her, Arya had thought Arianne was nothing but a pretty girl looking for marriage with no substance or ambition in her head. But spending a little time with her had been all it took to change Arya’s mind on that. She liked Arianne, she was talented with knives and had a certain charm that drew people in. Arianne knew exactly how to lower people’s defenses to get whatever she wanted.

“Wow,” she glanced inside. “It only took them this long to figure that out? I owe Dany money for that shocking turn of events.”

“Never bet against a Stark, you should know that by now,” Quentyn said behind his sister. “Arya has beaten us in every level of training since she got here.”

“Is that some bitterness I hear?” Arya jest, reaching over to shove his shoulder.

He grinned back easily. “I call it a healthy sense of competition.”

Arya snorted, rolling her eyes at him and nudging Arianne at her side. “If that helps you both lose with grace, who am I to question that?”

“Oh!” Arianne threw her head back in laughter before reaching over to grab Quentyn’s wrist and tugging him away. “That is a challenge! I will see you at the arena, Stark! Sharpen your own knives while you’re here,” she called, pointing at the forge. “And when you get to the arena we are facing off!”

“You got yourself a deal, Martell!”

The Martell siblings disappeared over the rolling hills and Arya pulled one of her knives out of her boot. She had sharpened it the night before, the blade was bigger than the palm of her hand and Arya turned the handle between her fingers. She swiped the air, seamlessly flipping it between her hands, letting the weight become an extension of her arm.

Standing there, surrounded by the busy commonfolk of Storm’s End, Arya felt at peace. There was just her and her knife, no worries or guilt gnawing at her. Before her mother and younger brothers had gotten sick, Arya hadn’t been all that good with blades - she had been an archer, a master horsewoman in the making. But on the long voyage from Winterfell to Storm’s End, there hadn’t been any open fields for her to ride so she had grown attached to one of her father’s daggers, carrying it with her like a comfort.

She saw another pair of boys pass her on their way towards the arena, at this rate she and her own boys would be the last ones there. Annoyed, Arya turned on the heels of her feet and stormed inside the forge.

“What is taking you so long?” she snapped, almost biting her tongue when she realized she wasn’t asking her brothers. Arya stared Gendry down, waiting for some type of acknowledgement at least.

“Take a deep breath, Arya,” his voice was soft, like always when he talked to her. Jon reached over, his large hand landing on her slim shoulder- light but strong. “He was just trying to ignore Theon and work at the same time. I’m sure you can empathize with that.”

Turning away from the bright blue that held her, Arya grumbled, “Well tell him to hurry up so he doesn’t have to listen to Theon blather on about his damned sword and we can leave!”

She tucked her knife back into her boot, leaning against the wall to catch her breath. Even a few short minutes in the shop made her lightheaded, the heat intense and blistering. She wondered how Gendry could possibly stay there day in and day out.

Just as she was becoming comfortable against the wooden beam at her back, she heard Gendry ask, “Is she alright?”

Arya bristled.

It wasn’t any of his business how she was doing. He hadn’t wanted to know anything about her when she had been the one trying, why develop an interest all of the sudden?

Arya pushed away from the wall, kicking at the dirt under her feet as she moved further and further away from the forge. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips and her arms tightened around her as she walked quickly, following behind a talkative pair of girls towards the training arena. Distantly she heard the music of Gendry’s hammer pounding against steel start again, melting into the background noise of Storm’s End.

If her brothers wanted to stand around and gossip with the town blacksmith, about her of all things, then they could be late to lessons on their own. And who did Gendry bloody Baratheon think he was to ask questions about her in the first place?


End file.
